


on second thought, don't fix the draft

by neonheartbeat



Series: Filled Prompts [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkwardness, Boners, Comfort, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Forehead Touching, Kissing, Love Bites, Making Out, Masturbation, Sharing Body Heat, Spooning, The Resistance Is Trying Their Best, Touch-Starved, Yavin 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 21:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16127285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonheartbeat/pseuds/neonheartbeat
Summary: The Force-bond kicks in when Rey's feeling her worst. Kylo Ren tries to help, but has no idea what he's doing.Listen, you can read the tags. I'm all summaried out and just like Kylo, have no idea what I'm doing... help me obi juan whoever the fuck you are...youre my only ho





	on second thought, don't fix the draft

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt on tumblr from anonymous was: "Fluffy fluffy Reylo fluff where they're force bonded and one of them sees the other crying or otherwise being vulnerable and is like "hey can I bring you some soup or..? You okay buddy?" And is awkward and doesn't know how to help that eventually leads to cuddling and then...well..." 
> 
> 1) I hope I delivered, dear anon. 2) WHAT IS IS ABOUT FORCE BOND THAT JUST MAKES EVERYONE WANT ONE...YOU GET A FORCE BOND FIC AND YOU GET A FORCE BOND FIC im like the oprah of forcebond prompts

Yavin 4 had been the last resort, really.

Leia had weighed her options and decided that even though it would be an _obvious_ choice, it would still be safer than any Inner Rim planets, out of the way of the First Order; and maybe, just maybe, they'd fly under the radar enough to escape notice and the Order would focus on something else for a while.

Hell of a bet, if you asked Rey. Though, of course nobody had: they'd just streaked off and landed in a jungle in the middle of the night, jogging through vines and bioluminescent flowers and trees to a looming shape, black against the backdrop of stars and Yavin itself, deep rusty-red overhead. Inside the abandoned temple, they'd quartered off into nooks and crannies, curling up to sleep against the warm stone walls and floors.

Nobody knew about the Force-bond Rey shared with the now-Supreme Leader, and she didn't plan on telling a soul. She hadn't even seen Kylo Ren since the gangplank had closed on him on Crait; perhaps it had been broken for good, so why bother?

The next morning, she gathered around with the remaining pilots and ground crew and they set to tallying up all their supplies and remaining gear, which was almost nothing. Rey stared at the meager pile of rations and sighed. Sure, there were porgs nesting in the Falcon, and sure, they _could_ eat them if they had to, but she doubted anyone would really want to eat roast porg, especially since they were so friendly and some of the ground crew had already _named_ them, and you just didn't eat things with names, you _didn't…_

"Rey?" Poe's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You got the list of supplies done?"

"Almost," she said, and tapped a few more lines into her datapad. "Here." She handed him the thing. "We definitely don't have enough food to last a week for all of us, but we have a couple blasters and survival kits from the Falcon."

"Thanks. I'll let Leia know." He gave her a smile and jogged off, pad tucked under his arm.

Rey sat down on a crate and sighed. She was already hungry enough as it was. Could they scour the jungle for food? She had no idea what sort of things grew here, but it looked lush enough.

"Hey, Rey, do you have any more medkits in that pile?" Finn's face swam up, creased with anxiety. "Rose is still out and Chewie thinks she's concussed."

"Let me see." Rey stood up and sorted through the pile, frowning. Rose Tico hadn't looked good, and her condition was improving, but slowly. "Oh, here we go." She handed Finn the medkit, and he opened it and grinned.

"Perfect, thanks. See ya!" He darted back off, and Rey turned and resigned herself to re-packing the medkits.

* * *

 

It turned out there was indeed food in the jungle, and Poe Dameron, a home-grown native of Yavin 4, took it upon himself to head up the foraging party. Rey was yanked from her job of sorting out canteens to sling a blaster over her shoulder and tromp through miles of trees around the abandoned old temple with Poe and a few other people whose names she kept forgetting for at least six hours.

When they came back, Rey had a bag full of edible vegetation and fruit, a string of dead Stintaril, and a blinding ache in her legs. And they _still_ had to sit down and cook everything. Poe and the others had bagged lizard-crabs and plenty of edible water-weed, and they sat down to clean and prepare the food, then cook it over a bed of coals outside on the old landing pad.

By the time Rey made it back to her room, a tiny niche off an old comms station, she had tears of pure exhaustion streaking down her face. _At least I'm not hungry_ , she thought, lowering her sore body down gingerly to her sleeping pad. _Cheer up, could be worse._ But that didn't work, and she drew her knees up and leaned forward, more tears squeezing out of her eyes. How were they supposed to live like this? The Resistance was cut off from everyone who could have helped, even if nobody had answered the call on Crait—they were going to be stuck here on Yavin 4. Which wasn't _horrible_ , but Rey was too tired to be reasonable.  More tears rolled down her face. She wanted to go home.

Something _shifted,_ and her ears hummed slightly in a dreadfully familiar cadence.

"This is _not_ a good time," she choked, trying to tamp down her sobs.

"I can see that."

The voice was as familiar to her by now as her own: low, masculine, steady and guarded. Rey raised her tear-stained face to see Kylo Ren, awkwardly standing a few feet away in the gutted comms room, looking exactly the same: swathed in black from his throat down and wearing that blankly intent expression.

"Oh, go away," she said, and sniffled loudly, wiping her eyes.

"Are…are you all right?" Kylo sounded hesitant, almost tense.

"I'm tired," she said miserably, and rolled over, her back to him. "Everything hurts. So if you're going to posture about and ask me where the Resistance is, you can—"

"I'm not going to ask you that," he said. "Not now, anyway. Can I—can I do anything to help you?"

Rey rolled back over, glaring at him. Her sleeping pad was abominably thin, and her hips pressed into the duracrete of the floor as she moved. "Unless you can transfer me a good mattress through the Force, I don't think so," she said, wincing. "We don't even have enough blankets to go around."

"Are you cold?" He took a step closer, looking as if he was gauging the situation.

She hadn't even been thinking about the temperature. Yavin 4 was a jungle moon; the days were humid and hot and the nights were humid and chilly. The walls at her back seemed to emanate damp and cold. "Not so much cold," Rey told him, propping herself up on one arm and wiping her eyes. "But I could use a blanket."

"Ah," Kylo said. "Well, I could... sit with you. If you haven't noticed, I do have a cloak, and it's fairly warm."

Rey's eyes narrowed. "Sit _with_ me?" She sat up quickly, rubbing her arms.

"I won't—I won't touch you," he assured her quickly. "Here. Like this." He moved into her niche, which was open to the room (it must have been a nook for some large piece of equipment at some point) and sat at the foot of her sleeping pad, cloak billowing out like the wings of a black bird.

She remembered the touch of his hand on hers in the hut on Ahch-To, the warmth of his skin, and inched closer, ever so slightly. Yes, his body heat was like a radiator. "Oh," she said in a very small voice. "You're—warm." _Hey, poodoo-for-brains,_ shouted her conscience, somewhere. _He's evil! Don't trust him!_

"Are your hands cold?" he asked, and took off his gloves, holding his palms out, cupped upward.

Rey regarded them coolly. He wasn't grabbing her, or making her touch him. He was offering, and she could say no, or yes, as she pleased. "My hands are fine, thank you," she said.

"Ah," he said, and rested his elbows on his knees, hands clinging together.

"Actually," she said, rubbing her fingers together quickly and hoping he wouldn't notice her blushing, "they're a little chilly. If you could?" And they were—cleaning the lizard-crabs had nearly frozen her thumbs off, but she wasn't about to admit that to Kylo Ren.

"Oh, right," he said, a bit too quickly, and extended his palms again. She put both of hers into one of his and tried very hard to not think about how _enormous_ his hands were. "You're freezing," he said, brows raised in surprise, and rubbed the backs of her knuckles briskly. "You must be on a cold planet."

"I have no comment," she said archly. His hands were warm, warm like the rest of him, and she wondered how someone so cold-tempered could run so hot. Although, he _was_ fairly volatile. She tried to remember all the myths she'd heard on Jakku about temperament interfering with the processes of the human body—something like palm-reading, wasn't it? Rey couldn't remember the name, exactly.

"I didn't mean to pry," he said, in that same even, flat tone. "Wherever you are, it's cold at night, and that could be any of a hundred planets."

"Yeah, well. Can't be too careful." She flexed her fingers as he released her hands and was gratified to note that they were warmer. "Well, that seems to have done for my hands," she told him.

"How's the rest of you?" he asked.

"Sore and chilly." Rey leaned back against the wall, allowing herself to relax slightly. "And I desperately need a shower, but the facilities here are… not as luxurious as I'm sure we all hoped."

Kylo let air out through his nose in an expression that, were it any harder, would have been called a snort. "Didn't you live on Jakku? I thought you rolled about in sand to clean yourself. Like a desert rat."

"Ha-ha. Very funny." She scrunched her nose up at him and pressed her hands between her legs to keep the warmth. "Desert rat. That's rich coming from someone with ears like a Kowakian monkey-lizard."

Kylo wrinkled his long nose back at her and leaned back against the wall, mirroring her movement. "Oh, like I haven't heard that one before. Why else do you think I keep my hair long?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Thought you were growing it out to stay warm on your neck, just in case the collar going up to your chin wasn't enough."

"Ha-ha. Very funny," Kylo mimicked. He turned his head and rolled his eyes, but she saw the smile at the edges of his mouth.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted as a cold draft blew in from the room, chilling her arms and neck. "Oooh, no," she said, distastefully. "Sorry. Drafty room."

"Here," he said, and opened his cloak with his right arm. "Wrap this around you. It'll hold as long as the link does."

Rey weighed her options. Another cold breeze wafted up her legs and sent her scooting for cover into the folds of Kylo Ren's cloak. She clutched the heavy blast-dampening material close and sighed in relief. It was warm and thick, and his body heat surrounded her beneath it. "Much better," she said, tucking her feet up inside. "What on earth are you doing with your arm?"

It was pressed up against the back wall, as far away from her body as it could get. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't want to—I mean, make you uncomfortable." His face was turned away too, as if he was afraid to look at her. "Is that—"

"Just bring it up to the front," she said, exasperated. He wriggled and got his arm down between his side and hers, and sat there stiffly as she leaned back against the wall, swaddled in cloak, warmth finally beginning to seep into her. "Mm," she mumbled. Her eyes felt so heavy. She felt her head drifting slowly off to the left, and—

THUNK. Her head hit Kylo's shoulder, and she jerked awake. "Ow!"

"Sorry," he said. "You're, uh. Falling asleep on me."

"I figured that part out," she said stiffly, rubbing her head.

"Well, you—if you lie down—" He was beetroot-red, and pointedly not making eye contact. "If you lie down, I can lie next to you, and you can still use the cloak as a blanket."

Rey was too tired to argue with that logic. _Someone ought to fix that draft._ "Right. Come down here."

They got situated. Ren's torso took up almost the whole width of the nook, and Rey found herself wedged tightly into the back wall on her side. "No, this won't work," she said. "Here. You get behind me on your side and I'll lie in front. That way you can spread the cloak over me."

"Behind… you. Right." Kylo sat up and switched places, and she settled down again, her back very nearly touching his chest and her legs curled up, the cloak covering her, both of them lying on their left sides.

"Oh, much better," she said, almost drowsy with the heat.

"Not _quite_ the word I'd use," he said from behind her, slightly strained.

"Wh—" Rey bent forward to push herself into another position, which had the unintended effect of pushing her rear into Kylo's groin, and directly up against—

Well, if the heat of the cloak hadn't warmed her up, the heat of her own blood rising sure did. "Do you—are you— _really_?" she spluttered.

"It's not like I can control it," he said tensely. "Nobody's—I don't exactly make a habit of cuddling with people, in case you didn't pick up on that."

"We are not— _cuddling!_ " Rey inched as far away as she could while still being under the heavy fabric. Burning curiosity and absolute horror fought for attention in her brain as she covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from spouting off anything else. _Kark me, he's big. Thick, at least. Wonder how long he is? NO STOP. HE'S THE WORST. YOU HATE HIM... I wonder if he's ever even kissed a girl? HE TRIED TO GET YOU TO JOIN HIM. AAAAAH. STOP._

"We're doing _something_ ," he said, sounding absolutely mortified. "I'm not planning on doing anything other than lying here perfectly still until the connection dies."

Rey twisted around and faced him, clutching the cloak to her chin. "Have you…ever…?" She wiggled her fingers, hoping he would get what she was going for.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she could almost feel his hackles rising, his defenses piling up. "Nobody's been this physically close to me in years. Touching your hands is probably the closest I've been to—that, in a very long time. If you're going to mock me for it, you can find another blanket."

"I'm not mocking you!" she said, shocked. "I mean, I was about the ears, but not about this." She'd had her own share of experiencing that: the absence of human touch, the lack of companionship and the callousness that grew, the desolation of loneliness. How prickly she'd been with Finn when he'd first snatched her hand up in his. "I know what it's like, a bit, is what I'm saying."

Kylo's eyes found hers, and he seemed to hold his breath for a moment. "Oh, you do," he said softly. "Yes, I remember. I saw it."

They had never spoken about that first encounter on Starkiller; the probing into her mind, however gentle he had tried to be—then the switch had flipped, and she had forced her way into his, not knowing what she'd been doing. What he'd seen in her mind. What she'd seen in his.

Gently, Rey reached up and traced the deep scar along his right cheek, cupping his face in her palm. The effect was immediate, and rather startling: Kylo inhaled sharply and shut his eyes, trembling against her hand, but did not move otherwise.

"Is this all right?" she asked.

"Yes," he managed, through unsteady lips. "Come—can you—" He reached out and laid a bare hand on her waist, as if afraid to touch her, and Rey moved closer, until they were chest to chest, and their faces so close, but not quite touching. Slowly, she pressed her forehead to his, and he brought his hand up, fingers tracing through her hair as if he wasn't sure how to do it properly.

They lay there, locked in each other's arms, for what might have been minutes, or seconds, or an hour; both of them too touch-shy to make the next move, both of them unwilling to let go.

"If I kiss you," he finally whispered, an inch from her mouth, "will you hate me for it?"

"No," she said. "No, Ben, I won't—"

"Can I—"

" _Yes—_ "

He closed the distance and pressed his mouth to hers, his nose pressing into her cheek: and if he hadn't been close to anyone in years he had a hell of a memory, because Rey found herself pressing in close, along the length of his body as he slipped his tongue between their lips and bit gently down on her bottom lip, open-mouthed and half-desperate.

Her thigh pressed gently between his, and he groaned into her mouth and broke the kiss. "Careful," he panted into her neck. She eased up on the pressure with a grin and fumbled with the fastenings on his tunic, slipping it open a few inches and exposing his throat, part of his chest. "Don't—"

"I'm not going to undress you," she told him, and waited for a nod before she pressed her mouth to his exposed skin, sucking delicate little bites into his flesh.

Ben's hands tightened on her waist. "Rey. _Rey—_ "

"Nobody will see them but you," she whispered against his chest, and he shuddered as she pressed another kiss to the base of his throat, then raised her head. "Easy. You're as red as a fresh paint job."

He swallowed and rolled over to his back, bringing her with him so that she was half on him and half on the floor, both of their bodies half-entangled in the cloak. "My turn," he whispered hoarsely, and she squeaked and wriggled as his big hands gently worked down the back of her pants, cupping her behind in his palms and squeezing. His hair spread out around his head like a black halo, his eyes half-shut. "Mmm. Warmed up yet?"

"I don't know," she panted, straddling his waist. "Here, why don't you feel this?" Her left hand reached back and pulled his forward, then up the front of her shirt and over her left breast. "There."

Ben blinked up at her, lips parted, like he couldn't believe it. His fingers squeezed and lifted and his thumb brushed across her bare nipple, stiff with either cold or arousal; Rey couldn't tell and didn't care. "Th—that. That's. I. Rey. _Rey_."

"Too much at once?" Rey let go of his hand, but he kept it there, fingers trembling.

"You called me Ben," he whispered. "Right before I kissed you."

"Yes," she said.

"I like it when you call me that." Ben raised his eyes again to her, his expression half-guarded, half-pleading, and he opened his mouth to say something else—

He was gone. Rey was alone, on her sleeping pad, kneeling and looking at the floor between her hands. She could almost feel the ghost of his mouth still on hers, the hands cupping her, lifting—

Her hands crept down between her thighs.

_Ben._

* * *

 

In his quarters on the _Supremacy_ , newly refurbished and repaired, the Supreme Leader of the First Order lay on his bed, his tunic half-open, tangled in his cloak, love-bites scattered down his pale throat and exposed chest, his hair in a tousled mess.

He rolled to his side and shoved a hand into his pants, bowing his head, silent as usual as he brought himself off, one hand gripping the bedclothes.

What wasn't usual was the name slipping past his lips on a breath as he finished, sweating and gasping.

_Rey._


End file.
